


Noise

by LuciustheDragon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, I need help, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Some disturbing descriptions, WE ALL NEED HELP, Weird narration shenanigans, Yuuri needs help, i guess?, mostly figments of the imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11745234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciustheDragon/pseuds/LuciustheDragon
Summary: He would have been fine, Yuuri knows. He would have been fine if he had taken a nap, had mindlessly scrolled through his phone for a bit, had just savored a bit of time to himself. Except he had not done that, and so here he is at the post-competition celebratory dinner-party disaster that Victor dragged him to right after the interviews and putting on a face for sponsors and chatting with fellow skaters, and he is not fine.





	Noise

Yuuri’s mental armor is not terribly weak. It’s not great, but it usually works to keep him sane. Too many people, smiles for the cameras, bright lights, awkward mingling… it all weakens that armor, and the lurking negativity he can normally bat away for a later time finds the chinks more easily.  


After the latest competition, Yuuri is exhausted. Happy, but exhausted, and the combination makes him very sleepy. He barely remembers receiving the gold medal, cold against his chest, or Yurio and Victor beside him with their silver and bronze. The interviews are a blur, camera flashes making dots appear in his vision that don’t go away as quickly as they should. Only Victor’s firm hand on the small of his back grounds him enough to answer the questions directed at him.  


Yuuri just wants to go back to the hotel and sleep. Perhaps he would have, except Victor and he ran into Phichit, and Chris, and Yurio and JJ and Georgi and they all wanted to talk to him about skating this and banquet that and Yuuri is too exhausted to dwell on how overwhelming the whirl of events is. He tries to nod at the right times and not nod off, but he can only take so much before the buzzing, twitching agitation creeps up on him. He tugs desperately at Victor’s sleeve as a signal of “Please, let’s leave, I need to leave” when Georgi started rambling about his new girlfriend and how cute she is. Not that it’s a bad thing that he’s happy, but understanding Georgi takes effort, and the heavily accented English is starting to meld with the ringing in his ears and he needs to center himself, can’t just depend on his ability to grin and bear it. It’s a desperate, pathetic plea that Yuuri should not have to make, and he feels weak, too weak to even do this much. When Victor evidently either ignores him or does not understand, Yuuri either feels relieved or even more anxious, he can't tell, so he focuses on the fact that he can stall disappointing Victor for a little bit longer and strengthens his smile.  


After is the banquet dinner. Victor insisted on them going, emphasizing how “oh, the sponsors, they’re very important! And your fellow skaters! You want to see them too, don’t you?” and Victor enjoys this sort of thing anyways, always has. Yuuri, of course, is miserable. He's always miserable at these parties, but when it's too suffocating he usually sticks near the table with all the champagne so he can forget. This time, with at least the beginning of a reputation to keep up, he can't get blackout drunk and avoid thinking about anything like normal.  


It's not so terrible at first, given that he can lean against Victor in a tired stupor while they're making small talk with people who are probably very important. He answers when prompted and asks questions as needed just as Victor drilled into him until it was automatic. It's a relief; not thinking allows Yuuri to avoid the weariness and the vague buzz that stirs under his skin.  


He’s okay with Victor guiding him through the motions, with him stroking his thumb rhythmically over the back of his hand. However, an inkling of insecurity creeps up on him, makes Yuuri feel that he is holding his coach, fellow competitor, and husband back. Victor is vibrant, happy to chatter and flit here and there, but he is still grounded, somehow. Yuuri is not. Everything seems fuzzy around the edges, yet bright enough to feel sharp and his eyes hurt, his strained smile hurts, everything hurts. There are too many people around, enough that someone is always brushing up against his arm or something, and it jolts Yuuri every time. It’s so bright. Why is it so bright? He finds a chandelier in the middle of the room, stares at it as spots fill his vision before averting his gaze and blinking them away. He feel a bit more with it, focused enough to remember the breathing technique Minako taught him. In for three. Out for four. In for four. Out for five. In for five. Out for six. But it doesn’t help, not right now. It can’t quiet down the noise, the noise of the lights, the noise of the dresses with vibrant colours, of the chatter, the laughter, the buzzing in his stomach his throat his ears his head and it won’t stop he just wants some quiet is that too much to ask for  


Victor oh god where where Where I dont know I wasnt listening he probably said something or maybe he doesnt want you around Yuuri of course not why are you like this pathetic that you cant handle one fucking dinner party why are you like this he cant know but youre Weak you need him Where it doesnt matter dont get in the way but its so hard youre Weak Where youre Weak weak weak but you need him  


Oh. there.  


Yuuri pushes through, not caring for etiquette as he keeps his eye on the silver (platinum blond, he corrects himself, because Victor always wails dramatically when anyone says otherwise) hair both to follow and to deafen himself to the noise some. He eventually makes it, and Yuuri hopes that will be the last of it, but he knows better. Well, he should know better.  


Victor is smiling broadly, blindingly. Yuuri recalls flashing cameras ever so loud when he sees that smile, and he feels himself grimace, or maybe it’s just that he’s been smiling so long that the still upturned mouth has become Yuuri’s grimace. Victor doesn’t see him, too busy talking to a lovely looking couple. With the surreality of the lighting and the situation in general, they look like dolls. Everybody around him looks like perfect, pretty little dolls. All smiling and gesturing, they play their parts as a typical child would make them, vaguely scripted without much substance. Yuuri hopes that this party hasn’t turned Victor into a doll, too, or he’ll feel even more terribly, terrifyingly alone.  


He approaches Victor, but does not know how to get his attention without appearing needy to him or to the couple. Yuuri isn’t confident in his ability to speak coherently. He’s too wired, trying (and failing) to suppress his twitching legs and hands and his head feels worse. He feels like he ceased to be real, like how the people appear around him. He’s now standing behind Victor. A shiver shudders down Yuuri’s spine, shocks his heart and lungs and stomach, and Yuuri can see that he isn’t falling, but that doesn’t stop the sensation of it.  


The couple must have spotted Yuuri and pointed him out, because Victor is turning to him with mirthful eyes and smile, but Yuuri turns away, lightly shoving at the partygoers and probably being very rude (coward, weak coward) and he’s walking, but he’s falling. Still falling.  


Falling until he approaches the cold embrace of death. Or outside. No real difference. Stone steps. Air. Tears. Cold. He feels cold. Yuuri feels cold. He sits on a step. The cold air hits the negative film of his face, reveals the trailing tears. Breath leaves in erratic white clouds, reappearing more quickly than they can dissipate, like a personal smoke screen Yuuri wishes he could harness to escape.  


Trying to keep from falling apart, Yuuri clutches his knees to his chest so as to hold in his guts which threaten to explode from his body. The warm knees and the now fogged-up glasses mean that Yuuri can no longer measure his breath in bursts of mist. It’s too warm. Too constricting, but better than letting loose the entrails. But it’s still too warm, especially when he hears a click from behind and hot indoor air rushes from behind and fuck someone is outside and now they see how weak and unworthy Yuuri is to be here with the gold and with Victor. He hears thumping both from his heart and from behind, coming closer, closer and closer. A presence weighs on Yuuri’s back and shoulders, presumably to comfort him, but Yuuri jolts away because it’s so sudden and too hot. The last of Yuuri’s armor, rather than shattering, melts away like ice, leaves nothing but raw burning. His face contorts and it hurts from the exertion of crying and his throat it hurts it’s closing and it hurts exorcising whatever vile thing festers inside if it hurts him enough maybe the ringing buzzing quaking will just go away and  


Yuuri goes dizzy and verging on throwing up with the sudden movement of his head and the flowing silver and the flash of intense blue but then he feels a firm hand on the back of his head and a better heartbeat to focus on than his own. Better than the other noise. Yuuri feels more than hears the low yet worried murmur in his ear and fuck why Victor why and Yuuri strangles himself shouting “Why did you leave werent you happy in there you looked so happy” Yuuri pushes against the heartbeat and the pressure on his head leaves so its too light and he cant feel his heart anymore why does he ruin everything why couldnt he have just held it together a bit longer then Victor would never know Yuuri wants to plead for Victor to go back back to the noise he thrives in but Yuuri is choking because the words are too hard so he cant of course Yuuri cant hes Weak he flattens his palms on the shirt that was nice but now its wrinkled because hes Weak wants to push away but then clenches at the fabric  


Arms tightly embrace him and he’s lifted to his feet. They let go and oh god he’s falling again A hand, the right hand, pulls at his arm but not too hard and Yuuri stumbles along, looking not at where he is walking but rather following with his eyes the golden glimmer of a promise on the ring finger. He’s coaxed into a car, probably a taxi, and by this point Yuuri is mostly back to where he started, but more exhausted and quite guilty and he still wants to cry a bit because it’s Victor and he shouldn’t have to sacrifice his night to deal with the mess that is Yuuri Katsuki. Maybe he still isn’t okay, but he isn’t high-strung anymore. Numb, that’s it. As if every part of his body, including his brain, fell asleep with that unsettling tingling of nerves but still detached from him, a bit unreal. He leans against the window, lets its chill seep into his cheek. Victor’s face is in the reflection, eyes unreadable but mouth ranging from pursed closed to slightly agape with aborted words.  


Yuuri figures that there are many goings on outside the window, but he is blind and deaf to them. He continues to focus on Victor’s reflection. With his arm reaching out then retreating, hand outstretched then shrinking, Victor is but an apparition in the window, as if he were not even in the car but rather outside and trying to enter and shatter the illusion. Yuuri lifts a finger to the reflection of the hand in the window, pretends that it’s really Victor holding it, but it’s too cold. He keeps the finger on the car window for the rest of the ride and loses himself to time and then to sleep. Yuuri doesn’t see that Victor and his reflection have stilled to keep the hand of the window under Yuuri’s finger. He doesn’t see the tension dissipating from Victor’s face and shoulders when his breath slows.  


It’s warm. Soft and warm. Yuuri’s head feels like a cloud. Or cotton candy. His whole body feels like cotton candy. He groggily blinks away the sleep in his eyes, groans at the bright light which seems so overwhelming even though it’s from but a sliver of space between the curtains. Yuuri’s heady lightness fades away as his now throbbing headache wakes him up more. He rolls to his left side and is greeted by an empty space on the other end of the bed. He last remembers the taxi ride back, but can’t recall anything between then and now. He’s definitely back in the hotel, as Yuuri can recognize the suitcases by the bed. He hopes he didn’t trouble Victor even more than he already has, and he feels the guilt creeping in, but Yuuri is comfortable aside from his headache and he can breathe. Yuuri is so thankful for this bit of solitude Victor has given him after last night that he could cry, because finally, there is no more noise. He loves Victor and loves being with him, but when Yuuri’s mind is consumed by the cacophony of people and sensations, Victor becomes just another dissonant voice.  


Intending to take a shower, Yuuri slips off the bed onto his feet. His clothes feel different; he looks down and realizes that he is wearing pajamas. Not really dwelling on it, Yuuri enters the bathroom, strips, and relishes in the spray of water in his hair and on his back.  


After a rather long shower and getting dressed in some comfortable sweats, Yuuri feels a lot better, and the headache is a mere afterthought. However, there is still no sign of Victor. Of course, this was just the bedroom and bathroom of the ridiculously expensive suite Victor insisted on staying in. He was probably doing something in the (wholly unnecessary) kitchen or watching TV, given that it’s… ten twenty-four according to his phone. He enters that part of the suite to find him and goes toward the murmur of the television. Victor is sitting on the couch watching said television, and Yuuri has no idea how to approach him. Apologize? Pretend it never happened and act as normal as possible? After a few minutes of just standing in the middle of the room worrying, he decides to just say good morning, and if Victor wants to bring up last night, then that’s that. Whatever he says, he’s going to regret it anyway.  


When Yuuri walks over, however, the words are forgotten before he can say them because Victor is not, in fact, watching television. Rather, he fell asleep while watching television in a funny position and is still asleep. Yuuri would have let him sleep a while longer, but he looks pretty uncomfortable with his knees so tightly tucked under his chin and his back hunched over. He musters the willpower to crouch down and press a chaste kiss on Victor’s forehead, whispers a raspy good morning after doing so. His voice is rough from last night. Victor hums sleepily, eyelids flickering, lashes fluttering lightly over his cheeks. What are you doing waking him up you're so inconsiderate look at how kind he was to you last night you don't deserve it and now you're suffocating it's a lump you can't swallow why are you so pathetic When Yuuri clears his throat, Victor finally opens his eyes.  


“Oh… I fell asleep.” He rubs blearily at his eyes and coaxes his feet to the floor. He continues getting the sleep out of his eyes for a few seconds before slapping his hands to his thighs so suddenly and loudly that it makes Yuuri jolt. His eyes are wide with some sort of realization.  


“I fell asleep! Oh, Yuuri, I'm sorry. I was going to check up on you during the night and I— Are you feeling better? How are you? Talk to me, please.”  


“I… I don't know how I am, Victor.” Yuuri settles himself down on the couch and tries to quell his awkward fidgeting. He truly does not know. Even after sleep and a shower, his mind still buzzes with uncertainty and anxiety which muddles his thoughts. He does know that he is better, that much is certain.  


“Yuuri. I made a mistake doing this without asking yesterday. May I touch you? Would that help? What do you need?” Yuuri’s heart swells at Victor’s concern, pushes away the guilt and the feeling that he doesn't deserve it. He says nothing, just holds Victor in his arms in lieu of an answer. He sighs into the crook of his neck as Victor reciprocates his embrace in turn. Victor smells vaguely of the cologne he wore last night, and Yuuri tenses up slightly before settling once again when Victor begins to comb gentle fingers through his hair.  


“You're so strong, Yuuri. If you aren't feeling well, it isn't weak to ask me for help. That is strength. I'm sorry I didn't notice how you were feeling until it was too late. Your coach has never been good at reading cues, hm? I want to be here for you, Yuuri, as your coach, and as your companion in life and love.” Yuuri feels a light sigh. “I was not doing a very good job of that, now, was I?”  


“But, Victor, you were right. It's important for me to go to these events as a skater. We can't just ignore that because I’m not good at that sort of thing! You don't need to be held back by me.”  


“You never hold me back, my dear. I mean it. I'll try to be— no, I will be better at making sure you know that.” Victor pulls back from Yuuri before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, as if he were sealing in that promise.  


“Yuck! You have morning breath.” Yuuri grimaces, but his cover is blown when he starts to giggle.  


“I know you love it.” With a breathy puff of laughter, Yuuri pulls Victor in for another kiss.  


“Thank you.” Yuuri whispers against Victor’s lips. Victor feels more than hears the words.  


“Anything for you, my dear Yuuri.”  


Maybe Yuuri is not completely okay, but at least the noise is gone. The noise is gone, and Yuuri can finally breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow aaaaand six months later or something like that, it's done! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
